ZACH & TURTLEZachariah Obadiah, the son of a well-to-do family from a hick town in the Bible Belt, is visiting England. His father told him to contact a business partner, Sir John Treville, who won’t be back home until 6 p.m. so he’s asked his butler, Turtle, to fetch Zach from the train station and take care of him. Turtle dislikes Zach’s rough appearance and vulgar manners, and has decided to make things difficult for him. Zach is now sitting alone in the front lounge.Enter Turtle with a tray of small triangular sandwiches.TUR : Your tea, Sir.ZAC: Tea?TUR: Yes, high tea, Sir.ZAC: Can I have coffee instead?TUR: Of course, Sir. So no tea with your coffee, Sir?ZAC: Nah! That would make a yucky mixture!TUR: Very well, Sir.Turtle takes the sandwich tray away, and comes back a little later with a coffee set.TUR: Your coffee, Sir.ZAC: Why did you take away those yummy-looking sandwiches?TUR: I thought you didn’t want them with your coffee, Sir.ZAC: No! I said I don’t want tea mixed up with coffee.TUR: So, what should I do, Sir?ZAC: Bring the sandwiches back, you dumb **bleep**. If you was my servant, I’d fire you pretty quick.TUR: Very well, Sir.Turtle brings the sandwich tray back. Half of them are missing.ZAC: It’s half empry now! How’s that?TUR: As you didn’t want them, Sir, Cook ate them. We don’t waste food here, Sir.ZAC: I see. I suppose your master is hard-up now.TUR: Hard-up, Sir? What makes you think so?ZAC: That old furniture of his! Look at that! I’d swear every piece is at least a hundred years’ old.TUR: Some more than that, Sir!ZAC: To think we can afford a complete renewal of our furniture every five years.TUR: What style, Sir, if I may ask?ZAC: The newest! Always the newest, and always brand new!TUR: Very well, Sir. May I go now, Sir?ZAC: How much do you think your master’s furniture would fetch in a second-hand shop?TUR: I have no idea, Sir. ZAC: I’ll tell you. Less than a hundred dollars! [Tastes his coffee] Isn’t your coffee just warm?TUR: Shall I brew some fresh coffee, Sir?ZAC: No! Bring me hot coffee. And what are these green slices in the sandwiches?TUR: Cucumber, Sir.ZAC: You don’t say! Who would think of making cucumber sandwiches?TUR: Shall I take your tea away, Sir?ZAC: There is no tea on the table, you dumb **bleep**!TUR: These sandwiches are your high tea, Sir. If you don’t like them, I’ll take them away.

He was standing at the island in the kitchen, staring at the muted TV in the den, as she walked into the kitchen. Clearly he had already had his lunch.

She pulled open the fridge and reached in. There was a good lasagna from the other night, and it would warm up nicely.

"I ordered the most stunning blue dress," she said. "You'll love it." Between the fact that she was speaking to the lasagna and the fact that his eyes were on the football game, her remarks passed unnoticed.

She stood up, slid the plate into the microwave, and punched some buttons.

He seemed to notice her at last, his eyes flitting towards her and then back to football. He held up some envelopes, yesterday's mail, from the island countertop. "Did it come yet?" he asked.

"Of course not," she replied, watching the lasagna turn round. She didn't want it to scorch and dry out. "I'm not expecting it until Wednesday."

"Wednesday? That's nearly a week. Is there a strike or something? A new holiday?"

"Well, it's not like I'm going to walk around naked until then. Can't wait, eh?"

The thought jarred him from the football game. He looked at her, in her ordinary jeans and shirt, as she plated the lasagna -- a smallish portion, in fitting with maintaining her slim figure -- and turned towards him. He had no idea what that meant. Why would she need to go around naked until the mail came?

"Well, you do have plenty of clothes," he said, puzzled.

Her faced flashed in a second from mildly flirty to raging anger. The plate clattered on the countertop as she stormed from the room.

He stared after her for a moment. How do these things get started? he wondered. Then he turned his attention back to football.

Skoob_Ym, I should have had the TV with the sound on, and the wife talking about a new shoe store named "Chelsea's Footwear" [replace "Chelsea" by any US team's name ]. The husband's ear would only have picked "foot", etc.

“It got real cold last night,” Jill said, sitting across from Jack and sipping her coffee.

“It did,” Jack replied. “Did you do anything fun?”

Jill shook her head, “nah, stayed in and watched television. You?”

“Same.”

They sat in silence until Jill spoke up. “Think it’ll snow today?”

“I imagine,” Jack said.

“Well,” Jill said, standing, “I suppose I should get to work.”

"Wait,” Jack snapped, “I need to ask you something first.”

If Jack had looked up, he’d have seen the light behind her eyes spark. “Yes Jack?”

“I…uh…well, I wanted to ask you something. I suppose it’s rather important, but it seems so silly.”

Jill sat back down. “What is it?”

“I want to ask you something, but it’s not easy.”

“I understand Jack, go ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “I just don’t want to come off the wrong way, or…well you know how it can be. I didn’t want to make anything weird. It’s important, but it seems kind of dumb” he gave a little laugh “but hell, I can’t do it alone.”

Jill chuckled too. “Yes, I suppose that would be rather silly, out there all by yourself.”

“It would be silly. You’re right. So I shouldn’t be so nervous about it, should I?”

“No,” Jill said, “you shouldn’t be nervous at all.”

“Okay,” Jack said, feeling more confident, “I’m going to stop dancing around it then. And if it sounds dumb or you think I’m absurd, you just say so. But I’ve got to ask and I won’t be able to settle down until it’s done anyway, so I might as well just come out with it and stop being so weird about it…”